


Matcha

by yeaka



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Established Relationship, Ficlet, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-06
Updated: 2015-09-06
Packaged: 2018-04-19 08:07:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4739000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Riker keeps Wesley on the right path.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Matcha

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Fill for celestialafterhours’s “Riker/Wesley” request on [my tumblr](http://yeaka.tumblr.com/).
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Star Trek or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

It’s all been worth it, if for nothing else, then for _this_ , lying on his back again in plush sheets with Command Riker atop him, sliding into him in slow, torturous thrusts that have his toes curling. 

It was hard to swallow his pride. It was hard to go back after everything that happened, look former professors in the eye, tell his mother and beg for Picard’s recommendation. But he got it, and he’s here, back in the Academy years past when he should’ve graduated. The world’s a different place now, but Will’s still _handsome_ , and he’s still good to Wesley. And now it’s so much _more_ , and Wesley looks forward to these visits like nothing else. It’ll be even more worth it when he leaves for a place on Will’s ship, and he can have this _every night_. Will teases him with nips along his neck, licks across his jaw, wrenches his head aside by the hair and hisses, “What posting are you going to request, cadet?”

Wesley _moans._ He knows exactly what Will wants him to say, and he wants the same thing, but they’re both too fun-loving not to play games, and Wesley, somehow, resists. It’s hard, with Will’s mammoth cock pounding in and out of him, to not do everything Will wants him to. He clutches tight to Will’s shoulders, covered in a _captain’s_ uniform: black and grey with the red accent stripped away. Will jerks his scalp again, growling, “What posting?”

“The Enterprise,” Wesley gasps, lying through his teeth so that Will will fuck him _harder_ , and it works. The next slam is so brutal that the bed creaks, the headboard rattling against the wall. It’s faster, after that, relentless, almost bruising, and Wesley’s hips are sore but he wants it that way—wants to have to limp through the halls and think of _Will inside him_. He tries to kiss Will’s mouth, but Will turns away, biting his chin instead, because he’s been _bad_ , and bad cadets don’t get kisses. 

With one arm looping tight around Wesley’s waist, Will scoops Wesley up suddenly, lunges up to balance on his knees, Wesley’s head still in the pillow but his legs in the air, clutching tight to Will’s sides. Will repositions his hands on Wesley’s bare hips, digs his fingers in and grinds Wesley onto his cock, stabbing forward the whole time. Will fucks Wesley like that, bent and arched and dizzy, all the blood rushing to his over-stimulated head. It’s overwhelming, like it always is. _No one_ fucks like William Riker. 

Wesley loves him for other things, too. Wesley loves him _so much_ that sometimes it _hurts_ to be down here, while Will’s off in the stars, but it’ll be _so, so worth it_ when Wesley can join him, work for him, maybe even be his _Number One_ and ride his fat cock in the captain’s chair. Just thinking about Will sprawled out on his bridge makes Wesley hard to the point of breaking. Will seems to know. He slams Wesley abruptly back down into the bed, one hand holding his chest down and the other clenching around his cock. Wesley cries out but doesn’t protest—almost never does—and his hands lie still at his side like they’ve been bound. He likes to just let Will use his body, because Will’s _so good_ at it. 

When Will leans down, there’s fire in his eyes, sweat on his brow, like all over Wesley’s gleaming body. He’s breathing hard, but not as hard as Wesley, and he snarls, “What ship?”

Wesley _snaps_. Just as Will’s huge dick drives up inside him, Wesley admits, “ _Titan_ ,” hoarse and broken, half a moan and half a breathless whine. Will lets go of Wesley’s cock instantly, and he bursts.

He sprays all over Will’s hand, crying out and bucking up, channel flexing and shivering. Will moans, drapes over him and leans on his shoulder and fucks him right through it. Just as Wesley’s coming down from another delicious orgasm, Will follows, rumbling into Wesley’s ripe body. 

It takes a few seconds after that for Will to move. Wesley’s too spent to do it, and just lies still until Will pulls out of him. Will slumps down to murmur, “Good boy.” He kisses Wesley’s temple, while Wesley dons a broad grin and tries not to say anything stupid. Sometimes he just wants to wrap Will in admiration, drown him in ardor and drag him down, never let him leave. But that’d be cruel, and silly, and Wesley’s not so young anymore. He’s patient enough to breathe and let the _I love you_ s just be known. He’s already said them half a dozen times tonight.

Instead, he sighs, “My mother’s going to kill me,” because everyone just assumes he’ll go to the Enterprise. Once, he would’ve. 

Will laughs good-naturedly, countering, “No, your mother’s going to kill _me_.” They’re probably both right. Wesley’s more than legal now, but he met Will when he was just on the cusp, and maybe Will should’ve been a father figure. But he isn’t, and that’s done. 

Somehow, for all his years, Will recovers quicker, practiced and easy. He slips out of bed looking as marvelous as ever: a quick zip and he’s perfect, minus the collar. He heads for the replicator and asks, “Do you want coffee?”

“No,” Wesley groans, “I want sleep.” He always needs some recovery time after, because even when they try to make slow, sweet love, Will always ends up fucking him hard enough to scramble his brain. With his roommate off on a training run and the windows all sealed shut, the computer-controlled lighting has the room a dull twilight colour that Wesley could easily drift off in, assuming he had Will in his arms. He knows if he opens them, Will will come back. 

But Will picks his own coffee out of the replicator and asks, “You’re going to sleep through your first class? You’re not going to get on to the Titan with that attitude, even if the captain is sweet on you.” Will grins as he takes the first sip, with his cute half-smirk that makes Wesley’s heart clench. 

Wesley glances at the clock on the nearest terminal and swears under his breath. By now, Will’s wandering back to perch on the edge of the bed, right as rain and chuckling, “Ah, the perils of letting older men fuck you right through the night.”

Wesley just groans, shakes his foggy head and asks, “Can you pass me my uniform?” It’s draped over his desk chair, in sore need of a wash just like him, but there’s no time for that. 

Will retrieves it and puts it in Wesley’s waiting hand, then leans down to kiss Wesley’s forehead and murmur, “Think of me when you wear it.” He’s headed for the door before Wesley can sulk and say he’ll think of Will when he hears the announcements of the Titan taking off again tomorrow. 

But he doesn’t want to think about that, and Will’s already out the door, off to all his real duty, full-fledged officers and too many old friends. So Wesley just gets dressed, trying to think of what they’ll do after his classes instead.


End file.
